


The Falling Dreams

by StarvingMe



Series: Inqed Words [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean assumes things, F/F, Rescue Missions, misunderstandings are so much fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarvingMe/pseuds/StarvingMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rescuing the Inquisitor and returning home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zaidnovi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaidnovi/gifts).



As they led her down the hall in chains, they moved as quickly as they could without drawing attention.  Other angels stopped once in a while as they passed, looking down at her as her shoulders slumped, the faint glimmer of her broken wings still visible, and more often than not, their gazes were filled with pity.  She refused to look at any of them, but she could feel the weight of their gazes as they made their way out…  At one point, down a long and empty hallway, she breathed, “I need my grace…  I can’t go back without it…”

“We can’t go back,” the guard behind her said, making her frown deeper.  “We’ll be caught for sure…”

“They’re watching us too closely.  If this continues, they’ll catch us before we can get her out of Heaven…”

“I’m as good as dead without it,” she said, shaking her head.  “I  _have_  to have it…   _Please_ …”

They exchanged a look, even as she tried to keep her head bowed, focused on the heavy chains they’d bound her in.  There was nothing stopping them from lying, from betraying her all over again, but what choice did she have?  She could only hope and pray they were telling the truth…

“All right, fine…” the angel in front of her said, frowning.  “Just… keep your head down and keep quiet, and do exactly as we say…”

The world moved so quickly after that, she couldn’t even keep up with everything that was going on around her.  There was a fight, blades singing through the air, and shouting everywhere.  The alarm sounded, a prison break in Heaven, but still they didn’t slow down.  The darker haired angel was faster than she was, the other defending her as the halls seemed to flood with their brethren.

She stumbled when another body collided with her, crying out as she felt the blade slide across her front.  She shifted, twisting herself away from the blade before she was lifted out of the way by one of her protectors.  Her eyes could barely make out who was fighting, and she was surprised to find others behind them, stopping the press of Galahad’s loyalists.

The amber-eyed angel—Aureus?  He looked like an Aureus… appeared back into the fray, carrying something that he pressed tightly into her hand.  He was shouting something to her, arms pushing her forward as her hands curled tightly around the silver container in her hand.  It was an order to run, another angel removing the heavy chain as she scrambled to follow them.  They were close now, almost away from the warded areas…

A sharp pain in her leg made her stumble, falling to her knees as she cried out in pain.  Looking back, she saw the thin blade she’d been hit with, eyes welling up with tears as she struggled to get hold of it to pull it free.  Strong arms lifted her up, helping her along as she felt the blood trickling down her front and calf.  Another blade, long and thin like a throwing needle, sang through the air as she beat her wings, desperate to get away.  She shifted, trying to avoid the next one, only to feel three more pierce her already aching wings.

Her scream echoed through the corridor as Aureus came up next to her, lifting her into his arms as she struggled to hold onto the vial in her hands.  Her body felt heavy, and everything resonated between a cold numbness and white-hot pain that left her breathless.  As Aureus held her, sprinting for the exit, she clung to him, looking up tiredly as she shuddered.  Blue eyes met green, watching as Galahad ran straight for them, drawing his hand back to throw another blade.  The world stilled as she screamed, clinging to Aureus as he leapt for the exit, pushing her through as she heard a sickening sound and a sharp, fizzling spark.  Amber eyes flickered a moment before they dimmed, his arms letting her go as she fell backward, arms flailing as she felt the vast emptiness below her threaten to swallow her up…

* * *

 

Pulling the bottle back out of the cabinet, Wordsmith poured one last glass, drinking it down quickly before setting it in the sink.  It had been hours…  how much longer was it going to take?  She knew not to message Guthrie—he would let her know when there was something notable—but it was  _torture_  just sitting here and… waiting…  She had taken to reading over the Inquisitor’s notes, stopping partway through when she realized that after a while, she started to repeat herself—something she also noted a few times, even making notes that she needed to read her own notes a bit closer.

Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to the window, staring out at the twilight that spread across the cityscape.  The longer this took, the less chance there was that they would find her safely and bring her back…  Who could possibly help now?

Sighing, she started to turn away when a flicker of light caught her eye. Staring, her mouth fell open as she realized what she was looking at—a shooting star.  Her heart leapt in her chest before she fumbled for her phone.

_An angel was falling from Heaven…_

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said, holding the fire extinguisher at the ready, “I’m still not getting it…  Someone just calls you up and says there’s some random angel in trouble somewhere, and that they’re supposed to land  _right here_?”

“That’s what they said,” Castiel answered, holding the lighter tightly as he waited.

“And we need the holy oil because…?”

“Because,” he said with a sigh, looking back at Dean, blue eyes tired, “we don’t know if anyone else might follow the angel down.”  Looking back to the circle, he felt the slight pulse before he heard the ragged fluttering…

And then she was there.  “Holy shit…” Dean breathed as he saw her, his eyes wide as he stared.  She didn’t look anything like the angels he was used to running into, no suit, no perfectly done hair…  She was pale, her hair disheveled, bleeding from a slice across her torso, her red dress hanging off her hunched shoulders.  His eyes widened as he saw the narrow blades jutting from her calf, two more that he could see in her shoulder…  She was barely upright, staring at him blankly as she tried to blink, her own blue eyes narrowing in confusion.  

She shuffled forward a half-step, shaking her head a little before she murmured, “B-Brother… Castiel?  What… what’re you doing… h-heeeee…”  Her voice trailed off as her legs gave out, eyes fluttering closed with a soft groan.  Castiel closed the distance, catching her before she could faceplant into the ground, taking great care with the needle-like blades that glinted in the half-light. Frowning, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her from the ground. It was awkward to hold her, especially when she tried to wake up, murmuring something as she bled into his suit.

“It’s all right, Inquisitor…” he said, making his way to the car. “I’ve got you…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riding to safety and realizing that certain hunters jump to the worst conclusions.

Castiel remained in the backseat with her as the radio lulled the injured angel into a comfortable daze.  Dean glanced at them in the rear-view mirror now and again, occasionally exchanging a look with him until he was sure she was out cold.  “So I take it you know each other,” he said quietly, watching him nod a little.  “Any idea why they would be after her?”

“If I had to guess,” Castiel said, smoothing her hair as she slept on, half curled into him, “I would say she started to dig into things she shouldn’t have.  She was always good at that…”  The music stretched into the silence as he brushed her hair back, watching the thick bandages where they’d hastily wrapped her up as best they could.  They had a couple hours to go, night falling around them as the music played on.  At one point, Castiel realized she was making small sounds.  At first, he thought she was whimpering until it finally dawned on him with a small smile.  “You know this song?”

She nodded a little, giving a shaky smile as she looked up at him with bleary eyes, barely able to focus on his face.  “Y-yeah… it’s one of my favorites…”  She continued to hum softly as she leaned her head into his shoulder.  She dozed in and out of consciousness along the way, waking up once when they stopped to refuel, Castiel leading her into the gas station bathroom to hurriedly help change the bandages and pull on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt that Castiel had borrowed from Dean.

Stuffing the torn dress into the dumpster out back, he helped her limp back to the car, draping his trenchcoat over her as she lay in the backseat to get some sleep.  Climbing into the front seat with Dean, he noticed the look, frowning as he shifted a little.  “What?”

“Nothing,” Dean said, shaking his head a little as he started to pull out.  “I’m just trying to figure out who in the world we’re supposed to be taking a very broken angel to…  This is starting to sound like something those douche bags in Heaven should be dealing with…  And since when does an angel get cast out for asking questions?”

Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a sigh, glancing back at where she lay still as the grave, save for the occasional inhale.  Looking back to Dean, he said, “There are some who don’t take it well when those from… lower rungs start to question what those in upper positions are planning.”

Dean’s frown deepened at that, glancing back at her as he changed the station when they finally lost it to static.  “Seems a bit excessive…  Beat an underling to within an inch of their life like that, and  _then_ ripping off their wings, removing their grace, and after all that,  _maybe_  letting them d…  I mean, I know they’re dicks, but that’s… that’s  _demon_  level torture…”

“We don’t know what exactly transpired,” Castiel said firmly, looking out the windshield again.  “I can’t condone what they did, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to help her.”

Dean gave another sigh, glancing back when she shifted, groaning in her sleep.  “She’s starting to bleed through your coat…”

“It’s just a coat,” the angel in the passenger seat said, still frowning a little.  “A small sacrifice for a greater comfort…  Besides, it’s been through much worse.”

“No, I meant… she’s still bleeding…  Why haven’t you healed her yet?”

Castiel took a deep breath, shaking his head a little as his blue eyes closed.  “I can’t.  She needs her grace restored first.  They… carved sigils into her… marked her as a warning, and for a punishment, sealing her inside her vessel and slowly burning her out, memories and all…  A touch of grace just speeds it up, makes it worse…”  His frown deepened at that, glancing back again.  “… If I tried to heal her now, I would probably burn the last of her out…”

Swearing under his breath, Dean scowled out the windshield.  “Damn dick angels…”  He looked to Castiel, managing a small smile before he said, “No offense…”

“None taken,” Castiel replied, wondering about the small vial she held clenched in one fist.  She wouldn’t even let him look at it, and he figured if anything, it was a secret she could keep.  If it was what he thought it was… if she somehow had her grace in her possession… then she might make it out all right…

Looking down at the phone in his hand, he read the message again, indicating where to meet before he sent a reply, indicating they were getting close, and that they would need a blanket and maybe a wheelchair for transport.  At the chiming response, he frowned, turning around to snap a quick picture of the sleeping angel.  She jerked awake at the shutter sound, blinking sleepily up at Castiel before he gently told her to go back to sleep, that they were almost there.  She frowned up at him for a moment, but after shifting to take her weight off her shoulder, she settled back into the seat, drifting off again.

* * *

“And you’re sure they have her?” Wordsmith said, lifting the blanket out of back of the car as she made her way around to Guthrie.  “Is she all right?  Did you talk to her?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s her,” he said, quirking a brow as he stood patiently next to the car.  “She’s badly injured and she was sleeping in the picture they sent, but she looked alive.”

“But did you talk to her?” she pressed, frowning as she held the blanket, leaning on the hood of the car.  “What kind of injuries does she have?  Do I need to call for an ambulance?”

Guthrie sighed deeply, fixing her with a look.  “I didn’t speak to her because she was sleeping, mouse.  Rest is what she will need, and from what I gather with my contacts, things got dicey.”  When Wordsmith started to ask, he held up a hand, shaking his head.  “Trust me… It’s better if you don’t know the details on this one.”

Frowning at that, she sighed, looking up at the sky as she settled in for a wait. 


	3. Chapter 3

The Impala pulled over to the curb, Dean killing the engine as Castiel frowned at him.  “Dean, this isn’t the meeting site,” he said, starting to get out with him as he creaked the door open.

“I know, Cas,” he said, frowning, “I just want to check it out… make sure we’re not going into an ambush or something.  I need you to stay put and watch the car, make sure she stays put.”

“Dean, they’re waiting for us—we need to get her to them!” Castiel said, frowning deeper as the hunter simply waved him off, making his way down the street towards the empty lot where the drop was supposed to take place.  He moved quietly, blade and gun at the ready as he peeked around the corner.  It took him a few moments, but he finally spotted the two figures towards the back edge of the lot.  One was male, silvery-white hair, beard, impeccable suit, the other decidedly female, raven hair, suit a little less neat-looking.  The clouds overhead parted and moonlight brightened the dark lot for a moment as Dean jerked back at the flash of red.  Demon eyes—they were going to hand her over to a couple of Crowley’s flunkies.

Turning back, he almost gave a shout when he found Castiel standing behind him, frowning deeply.  Scowling, he shook his head, grabbing his arm as he dragged the angel away.  “Okay, Cas—I need all your cards on the table,” he growled low, moving as quickly and quietly as they could to get back to the Impala.

“What? Dean, what’s going on?” Castiel asked, trying to look back over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what they were rushing away from.

“There are two demons waiting over there, Cas!” he hissed, pointing back the way they had come.  “Wanna start taking bets on who they’re here for?”

Blue eyes blinked at him as Castiel’s brows drew together.  “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“Does it really look like I’m joking?” he asked, glancing in the backseat to find the wounded angel still asleep.  Shaking his head, he made a face, trying to calm his racing thoughts.  “Okay, well, first things first, we can’t hand her over to them—she’ll be mince meat before she even comes to her senses.”

“I understand… but… Maybe they’re here for another reason?” Castiel tried to suggest, frowning at the look he got from Dean.

“What other reason could there possibly be for two demons to be waiting around in an abandoned lot—the very same lot we’re supposed to meet your contact to drop off said angel?  Who sent you the message?”

“Uthrial,” he said, shaking his head a little as he reached into his pocket. “He’s like Inquisitor, he tends to remain here on Earth, but a lot further north.  I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but he said it was urgent and he couldn’t leave to get down here for her.”

Nodding a little at that, Dean narrowed his eyes a little, still thinking. “How well do you know this Uthrial?”

“Well enough, Dean.  He wouldn’t have involved me if he thought demons were at the bottom of this…”  Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the sky for a moment before he met Dean’s gaze again, blue eyes hesitant.

“All right, then it’s settled.  We need to get her someplace safe, get her something to eat, and maybe some real bandages…”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Wordsmith frowned, checking her phone again as she realized they’d been waiting far too long.  Guthrie had been on his phone, sending and receiving messages for the last several minutes, and she was starting to realize the look on his face.  Something had happened…

“Guthrie,” she said, watching him closely as he turned away to answer his phone. “Where is she?”

“Just a moment, mouse,” he said, turning back away as he spoke into the phone.  “Ah, Henry… just the man I needed to hear from…  Any tracking update that I should perhaps know about?”  The silence drew on for several minutes before she heard him hiss, “What do you mean,  _you don’t know_? You’re damned right you’re about to go and find out!”  Closing the phone with a sharp snap, he took a deep breath, turning back to the car before motioning to Wordsmith to get off the hood of the car. “Come along, little mouse.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, sliding off and making her way over to the driver’s side, climbing in when he didn’t answer her as he got in the car.  Frowning deeply, she turned the key in the ignition.  

As the car flared to life, Guthrie said, “It seems someone has decided to scoop up your little bird and make a break for it.”

 

* * *

 

Dawn was breaking when the Inquisitor sat up in the backseat, the Impala just pulling into a roadside motel.  Bleary blue eyes squinted at the sign, trying to make sense of the words as she heard a car door open and slam shut.  Wincing at the noise, she grumbled, “How much longer?”  

She almost jumped as Castiel answered, “We’re going to stop here for a couple of hours, get your wounds rebandaged, and have you rest for a while…  We’re arranging to get you to a safehouse.”

She blinked at that, frowning before she said, “Wait…  Safe house? W-why a safe house?”

Castiel frowned at that, pausing before he said, “Because… we need to keep you safe.  Whatever’s going on up in Heaven hasn’t blown over—and it might not ever—and there appear to be demons after you.”

Frowning as she stared at him, she tried to fumble through this new information before the car door suddenly opened, Dean poking his head in as he held out a hand to help her out.  Taking his hand, she leaned a little into him, right leg stiff and practically useless as she climbed out.  He started to help her, Castiel taking her other side as she hobbled along the row of doors.  

Once inside the room, Castiel helped her get to the bed, slipping his trenchcoat from her shoulders. Her eyes followed the coat, seeing the dark blood staining the inside, and she turned pale, flinching a little as she looked down at her shaking hands.  “I… I’m sorry, I’m… ’m getting blood everywhere… I… I should just stand,” she said softly, trying to push herself to her feet as Castiel moved to the bathroom, starting a bath.  Before she could move away from the bed, Dean’s large hand rested on her shoulder, nudging her gently to sit back down.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, offering as comforting a smile as he could.  “A little blood isn’t going to hurt anyone…  We’ll get you cleaned up, get you some breakfast, and then you can sleep in a real bed…”  He looked her face over, watching the way she looked away, shoulders drooping a little.  “Something the matter?”

“It’s just…” she said softly, frowning a little.  “I… I thought someone sent you… t-to pick me up…”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, smiling a little.  “Wouldn’t happen to be Uthrial, would it?”

“What?” she asked, frowning deeper before shaking her head.  “No, I… I don’t think I know an Uthrial…  I mean, things are kind of…” She made a frantic little motion to her head, wincing a little at how stiff her muscles felt.  “No, it was… someone else…”  Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, looking up at him, “Hey, um… do… do you have a phone I could use for a sec?”

“Why?” Dean asked instinctively, watching the angel flinch a little as she looked up at him.

“I just… I have someone who will be worried about me… I just want to tell her I’m okay…”  Looking up into his face, she gave him her most tired look.  “Please?  It’ll just be for a minute…”

Sighing, Dean pulled out a spare phone, handing it to her—it only had a couple of minutes left on it anyway, how much trouble could she get in?  “All right…  I’m going to go and get us some food, got any preferences?”

She shook her head a little at first as she tried to remember the number, lifting her head, “Oh, um…  No eggs…  uh… no tropical fruit, and no strawberries…”  At Dean’s look, she shrugged a little, “My vessel’s allergic…  Would… kind of be a shame to get this far in being rescued only to die of an allergic reaction, right?”

Nodding a little, he murmured, “Touche,” before ducking into the bathroom to let Castiel know where he was going.  A moment later, he had a laundry list of things to pick up, including some essentials they would need for the Inquisitor after she got cleaned up.

Her hand shook as she held the phone, staring down at it.  She didn’t understand it—hadn’t Wordsmith sent them?  Sure, Castiel was all about free will and letting angels make their own decisions, but he couldn’t have possibly known that she was a fugitive in need of help…  There was no way the King of Hell had sent them—his help was already bound to come at some great cost, and it was pretty well safe to assume that Dean Winchester and the great Castiel weren’t about to leap into action to save one nearly-nameless angel from burning up upon re-entry…

Sighing, she mashed the send button, listening to it ring…

 

* * *

 

Wordsmith jumped in her seat, narrowly avoiding swerving into oncoming traffic when her phone buzzed into her pocket.  Shifting a little, she managed to wiggle her fingers into her pocket, trying to concentrate on the road as she pulled it out.  Frowning at the device, she read over the unfamiliar number before deciding to go for it, answering the phone.

“Hello?” she asked, glancing at the other drivers in the predawn light. They’d been chasing leads down the interstate for hours now, and it was starting to grate on her nerves that no one seemed to realize where the angel had ended up…

“Wordsmith?” a tired voice asked on the other end, her heart leaping in her chest.

“OhgodCasswherethehellareyou?” she quickly spat out, heart starting to pound against her ribs. There was a sniffle, oh god, was she crying?  Taking a deep breath, she let the angel have a moment to answer, trying to focus at least a little on the road.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, definitely sniffling now.  “I… I landed a few hours ago… there was a fight, and Aureus was… and then Galahad… and… But Castiel’s here now, and h-he says I have to go to a safe house, and I don’t know where I am, and…”  

Wordsmith could hear the panic rising in her voice, taking a deep breath as she tried to help calm her down.  “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay… Just… tell me where you are, I’ll come and get you.”

“I-I don’t know,” she answered shakily as she tried to breathe.  “I-in a motel somewhere… I… I want to go home, Wordsmith,” she added finally, a choked sob escaping her as Wordsmith looked to Guthrie. He was already on his phone again, issuing orders.  

“It’s okay, Cass,” she said reassuringly, holding the phone tightly. “Just stay where you are, and I promise I’ll come and get you, okay?”

A soft hiccup was the only answer she got before the call was dropped. Cursing, she set the phone on the center console, listening to Guthrie as she drove on.  She was with Castiel—he would make sure nothing would happen to her.  But if Castiel was there, then there was bound to be…

“Damn,” Guthrie said as he hung up, taking a moment to compose himself.  “I didn’t know they were going to call  _them_  in, or I would’ve been at the drop myself…”

“What?” Wordsmith asked, looking over at him again as she divided her attention between the other drivers and him.  “Who did they bring in?”

“Dean Winchester,” he said, frowning.  “Castiel brought him along for the pick-up…  Apparently, they spotted us last night and decided to make a run for it with your girl.”

If ever there was a time when she wanted that denim-wrapped walking nightmare dead, it was now.  Never mind everything else—Dean Winchester had stolen Cass and was trying to secret her off like some some angel-protection-program.  Gripping the steering wheel, she stomped on the gas, not caring how much faster they burned through the tank of gas they’d just put in.  She needed to get there  _fast_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel starts to realize the gravity of the situation.

“Inquisitor?” Castiel asked, stepping back out of the bathroom before making his way over to where the injured angel was sobbing and trying to talk into a phone.  Blue eyes looked frantically up at him as she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.  Gently taking the phone from her, he glanced at it, frowning.  “Oh, the phone ran out of minutes,” he said, gently setting it down before helping her carefully up to her feet and towards the bathroom.

“B-but,” she cried, shuffling along shakily, “D-Dean said I-I could caaaaaaall!”  Her sob ended on an almost wail as Castiel flinched, helping her to stand unsteadily as he started to help remove first her bloodied clothes, and then slowly unwrapping her injuries.

“It’s all right, Inquisitor,” he said, helping her to climb into the shallow tub before starting to clean and check her wounds thoroughly. “Dean will be back soon and I’ll give him a thorough tongue-lashing for it…”  Washing away some of the dried blood and checking to see which of the wounds might need stitching, he watched as she tried to calm down, splashing her face a few times as the tears continued to fall.  The strangest was the burn across her lower back that looked almost like a handprint, drawing a shiver and a twitch from her when he gently touched it.  

After making sure that most of her wounds were small or shallow enough not to need much more, beyond the one in her right leg, because that would need stitches, he sat back, letting her have a moment to wash her face and neck.  When she was about ready to get out of the tub again, he finally asked, “Who were you trying to call?”

The Inquisitor didn’t answer for a long time, simply staring down at her hands as she slowly washed the suds away.  He had almost resolved himself to not getting an answer when she said, “If…  If I tell you something, brother…”  She hesitated again, looking up at him with tired eyes that expected she would know the answer to her question.  “… Will you still protect me until she comes?”

His frown deepened a little before he nodded, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor next to the tub.  “You have my word, Inquisitor.  I will still protect you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Dean returned with an armful of groceries and a bag of medical supplies, he was almost ambushed by a rather upset-looking angel.  He looked around Castiel to find the Injured angel lying in one of the beds, wrapped up tight and sleeping.  “Dean, we have a problem,” Castiel murmured, nudging Dean back outside and closing the door behind them.

“Oh?” Dean asked, frowning.  “Like Heaven raining its wrath upon us trouble, or I’m gonna have to eat my pie on the road?”

“The demons that were at the drop site—it’s probable that they really were the ones we were supposed to drop the Inquisitor off with,” he said sternly, frowning at the hunter.

“Wait, what?” he asked, frowning deeply at this news.  “the angel was _supposed_  to go with them?  That’s insane, Cas—do you realize how nuts that sounds?”

“I understand how it appears, but you left that phone and let her make a call—I checked the number, and it does belong to a demon.  One of Crowley’s, though I can’t say I’ve had much dealings with her specifically.  When the phone ran out of minutes, she was… distraught.  I know how it sounds, Dean,” he added, scowling, “but I’m genuinely of the belief that she had been expecting us to take her to them.”

“Wait, so you’re saying… that an angel… a god’s honest  _angel_ , is seeking shelter with a demon?” Dean asked, shaking his head a little.  “I don’t buy it…  There must be something—there’s got to be some kind of… devious… contracty…  _thing_  going on…”

“Well, whatever you decide to believe, the demons are on their way to collect the Inquisitor,” Castiel said firmly, setting his jaw as if he dared Dean to tell him no.  “It’s my understanding that one of those demons was the one that sheltered her for the last several months, and I intend to see her returned there if that’s what she wishes.”  Without waiting for a reply, he turned to head back into the room.

Frowning after the angel, Dean said, “What, we’re supposed to just assume she’s in her right mind?  Come on, Cas, she’s probably out of her mind with the pain and can’t think straight.  If demons really have been holding her for several months, maybe it’s like some kind of angel Stockholm Syndrome, so now she thinks her bosses are out to get her and that demons are really her friends!”

Stopping him in the doorway, Castiel met his gaze, eyes sharp as he said, “Dean… whatever you believe… I would like to ask you to kindly keep it to yourself…  The Inquisitor is sleeping, and she’s going to have a long ride back once they get here.”  Taking the food and medical supplies from his arms, he nodded out towards the car.  “If you want to make yourself useful, stand watch.”  Without waiting for him to respond, Castiel simply closed the door in his face, leaning against it as he took a deep breath.  Oh, if Dean had only heard her…  If he only knew what the angel had told him, he wouldn’t have any room to doubt that they’d made a mistake.  Steeling himself, he turned to set the items on the table, moving to check on the Inquisitor.


	5. Chapter 5

As the car pulled into the motel parking lot a couple of short hours later, Dean and Castiel were standing outside the motel room, watching the expensive-looking vehicle roll into a parking space next to the Impala. The late-morning air was still for a few moments before the car doors opened, two demons climbing out. Dean tensed as he recognized them both as the pair he'd seen in the parking lot, grimacing a little at that. And in the daylight, he could almost swear he recognized the car...

“Where is she?” the female demon asked, though she stayed further back, eyes glancing over the motel room's windows. “I want to see the Inquisitor.”

“All in good time,” Dean said, leaning back on against the door. “First, some things need to be discussed, like how come two demons are interested in what happens to a fallen angel...”

Red eyes narrowed tiredly behind her dark sunglasses. She knew better than to underestimate a Winchester—especially _Dean—_ but her patience was wearing thin—she was operating on several cups of coffee and at least one shot of alcohol to help get her through the longest part of the drive. Right now, she was running on fumes, and she didn't know how much longer she could be calm.

She flinched when the angel Castiel moved, taking a step closer. She wanted to jump back—any angel was bad enough, but Castiel, the mighty and righteous heartbreaker of one demon King, was even worse. She couldn't tell if it was a good thing that it was Castiel guarding her, or if maybe this was going to make everything that much worse...

“She's still resting,” he said, frowning. “We gave her a sedative to help her sleep so she could heal better. She was in bad shape when she landed...” Taking a deep breath, he looked her over, then over to Guthrie. If he recognized him, he didn't let it show, instead keeping his face carefully blank as he looked back to her. “You must be the Wordsmith, the one she was speaking to on the phone. Apologies, she was most distraught when the call dropped. You can understand our... concern.”

Wordsmith frowned, watching those blue eyes. They almost looked like hers, she thought, very close to the same shade... Shaking her head a little, she said, “I just want to see her... I need to know she's safe.”

After several moments of awkward shuffling and dark looks exchanged, Wordsmith found herself in the dingy motel room. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of mold and mildew that permeated the place, mixed with the sharp, bright scent of some industrial cleaner. Clearly used in all the wrong places, she thought to herself as she glanced around before she spotted the figure on the bed.

For a moment, it was like they were back in her flat, the Inquisitor curled into the blankets, pillows tossed haphazardly about. She looked more tired now, her face thinner, almost as pale as the pillowcase she half-nuzzled. She twitched fitfully, fighting falling asleep or fighting staying asleep, Wordsmith couldn't tell. Moving closer, she was cautious, reaching out to her. She wanted to wake her up, to see those blue eyes again, though part of her was screaming to let the angel sleep.

Hesitating a moment, she reached out to brush a stray curl away, watching her eyes flutter open sleepily before they drifted closed again. After a moment, she gently traced across her brow and over her cheek before carefully touching her hand. She was bandaged there, the gauze thickest across her knuckles. Frowning at the sight, she gave her fingers a light squeeze, starting to pull away again when those fingers tightened around hers. Blue eyes opened again, blinking up at her as the Inquisitor started to come to her senses.

Once she registered what she was seeing, Wordsmith stumbled back, blinking as she realized that Cass had thrown herself around her, arms wrapping around her as she trembled in her arms. She hesitated for a moment, feeling those hands clutching at her like a lifeline, the angel's face burying in her neck as she let out a choked sob. Holding the angel, she heard the tiniest murmur, “I thought I wasn't going to see you again...”

Managing a small smile, she reached up to run a soothing hand through the angel's hair, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple as she replied, “It's all right, Cass... I've got you...”

  
  


* * *

  
  


_She was falling. She couldn't stop it, tumbling down, down, into the depths as the void threatened to swallow her whole. Her wings were crumpled, flapping uselessly as she fell end over end, desperately trying to slow her descent. She was screaming for help, but no sound escaped, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fall the right way up._

_Darkness was directly below her now, and if she fell there, she would never come back out again. She clutched at the vial in her hand, the last remnants of her grace, and offered a frantic prayer to be delivered from the nothing..._

She felt the hand brush her own, the fingers squeezing hers as the world started to clear, coming back into a sharper focus, even as her brain took a few minutes to register what was going on. As the fog peeled back, she found herself staring up at her friend. She looked haggard and worn, but she was definitely _there_. She wanted to reach out to her, to clasp her hands tightly and kiss each knuckle and offer thanks to whomever had decided to bring her back, but she couldn't seem to move at first, but she needed to just _hold_ her... Every muscle protested, but she pushed off the bed, grabbing Wordsmith and pulling her close as she clung to her friend for dear life. She knew the tears were coming, could feel them welling up, could feel the sobs in her chest as she trembled, but she didn't want to let go just yet. Letting go meant facing the world, facing Galahad, facing Castiel, and facing the vial of her grace that promised either salvation or destruction.

“I thought I wasn't going to see you again,” she breathed, praying she could just push the world away a little longer. She had so much she wanted to say and she knew her time was short, even now. _I don't want to let go again..._ she wanted to say, the words catching in her throat.

“It's all right, Cass,” she heard, sniffling at the feel of a hand caressing her hair, soothing her and comforting her, all so familiar and warm, like the memory of a dream. “I've got you...”


	6. Chapter 6

Guthrie cleared his throat as he gave Wordsmith a look. Frowning at the sound, she slowly pulled back, helping the injured angel to sit back on the bed. She could feel the weight of their stares on her back, and she wanted nothing more than to shield her from that. She honestly couldn't care what they thought of her—she was a demon, she could handle it, but Cass... no, she was innocent. Maybe a bit too trusting, maybe a little too caring, but she didn't deserve their scorn. Tender moments were not for them to witness...

“Well that's not something you see every day,” Dean said, arms folding across his chest as he leaned against the partition, eyes focused on her. “So then... The... _Inquisitor_ here, she's on the run from some angels, right? Why is she running?”

Red eyes narrowed to angry slits at that as she frowned. “I don't see why that has anything to do with you,” Wordsmith said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried not to notice how close her friend was, forcing herself to pull her focus from the way the angel's fingers clutched at the hem of her jacket.

“Well, call me old-fashioned,” he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “but I usually like to know what I'm getting myself into.”

“One of my brethren has... made everyone believe lies about me... that I've been working for Hell... specifically that I'm working for Crowley...” Cass said, all eyes turning to her as her cheeks blushed red. “They think I've been selling my secrets, and they... wanted to make an example of me.”

Frowning, Dean looked to Castiel, who gave him a dark look in turn. Sighing, the hunter shook his head a little. “Just when I think I've got you angels figured out... So then I assume you aren't? Or are you? Since you seem to be so close to the Wordsmith here, I mean, that does tend to look... a bit suspicious...”

Blue eyes flashed angrily for a moment before she straightened up. “Wordsmith is my _friend_. When my brothers were quick to lay blame and point fingers and were tying the noose to string me up from the nearest tree, she was pulling me out of the bottle and giving me somewhere to stay, somewhere safe...” Her eyes looked to Wordsmith, the exhaustion showing in her face as her shoulders slumped a little. “Can we go now? I just want to go home...” she said quietly, voice shaking miserably.

Before she could answer, Castiel cut in. “You can't return to Wordsmith's place—they're watching it like a hawk. You won't even get close to it without them catching you. You'll need to lie low for now.”

“What?” the Inquisitor answered, blinking as she looked from Castiel to Dean, then to Wordsmith, before looking back to Castiel. “That's out of the question, brother— _I want to go home_.”

Before she could really comprehend what the hurt angel was saying, Wordsmith shook her head a little, sighing, “He... has a point, Cass...” Hurt blue eyes turned on her at that, making her almost want to flinch away, knowing she was the one that had caused that look. “That's going to be the first place Galahad will look for you... And you _just_ got back out—if he gets his hooks back in you, there will be no getting free again—he's bound to make sure of that.” Taking a deep breath, she gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, meeting that hurt gaze as evenly as she could manage. She had to be gentle, but firm... “We need to get you somewhere safe until we can figure out a plan...”

“But...” she said softly, her voice breaking a little, “I just want to go back... I don't want to go somewhere else...”

Sighing, she looked down at her hands, feeling the way that Cass's finger's held tightly to the hem of her jacket as if she refused to let her leave. Why did this have to be so damn hard? Staring at her fingers as she rested her elbows on her knees, she wanted to just give in to her frustrations, to just tell them all to bugger off and take the angel and leave—that's what she wanted, right? To go home with Wordsmith and stay in her flat and just pretend the last three days hadn't been an utter nightmare? It would be so easy to just bundle her up and ignore their advice and do whatever it took to make the angel happy...

_But she won't be safe_ .

Damn it all to Hell— _safe_ . That's what it kept coming back to, every time.  _Keep her safe, no matter the cost._

Had  _she_ really caused this, though? That hadn't entirely occurred to her—that their accusations, their torments on her, their punishments, that it was all because she continued to be Wordsmith's friend. Was this the price they would pay for Wordsmith's weakness? Is this the consequence for not wanting to push her away, for throwing caution to the wind and just doing whatever the hell she felt like? 

_This is the real cost of wanting an angel_ .

Taking another deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to make a decision. She could still break it off now... She could tell the angel she was done playing, that it really was too much, that she couldn't help her anymore... She would lose some vital pieces in the process, but she would be able to stop her traitorous hear t... Things were getting too far, too out of hand. She wanted to have the angel at her side all the time, she needed to know that she was happy and safe and cared for, and yet, she couldn't conceivably do any of those things...

Steadying herself, she looked up at the others, frowning.  “Could we… have a minute?  Please?”

She watched Dean start to protest, Castiel nodding a little as he took hold of his arm and nudged him towards the door.  Wordsmith looked to Guthrie last, nodding a little at her friend when he hesitated.  Turning, he followed the angel and hunter back outside.

  
  


Looking at the angel, she opened her mouth to tell her, to do what she should have done months ago...

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Wordsmith asked the others to leave the room, her heart started to race in her chest. The other demon's gaze flickered to her for just a moment, and there was a look, almost like a flash of pity in his eyes, and she felt the world crumble around her. The silence that followed the closing of the door pulled hard at her heart, making her hang her head. It took her a few moments to force herself to uncurl her fingers, letting the cloth of her jacket slip through her fingers. It didn't matter now... This was really the end now...

She had so much she wanted to say, so many things on the tip of her tongue. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you so involved. This is my burden to deal with. I shouldn't be so selfish. I keep pulling you into this mess. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I should never have trusted Galahad. I should never have believed his lies. I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry..._

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, hanging her head as she looked away.”I keep... I keep forgetting... I just... I liked how it was... I... liked being there with you...” Sniffling a little, she tried to blink away the tears. “Here I am, complaining about wanting to go back, and I'm the one that keeps causing this mess...”

She turned back a little, watching Wordsmith from the corner of her eye when she heard her sigh. “It's not that,” she said, running a hand through her raven hair. “... I... got your letter.”

Blue eyes widened as her heart threatened to stop. The letter... She had almost forgotten about it. She had been so hasty in writing it, she hadn't even thought about the possibility of surviving and forgetting to go back for it. She winced as her heart gave a painful twist in her chest. So this was it. This was the conversation she'd wanted so much to have—and that she'd prayed to never have to go through. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she bowed her head. This wasn't just the “I can't do this anymore” talk—this was the “You realize I _don't_ feel that way” talk. She almost hated herself for writing that letter now, what had she been thinking?

Her shoulders shook as the tears started to fall, desperately trying to hold it together as the demon got to her feet.  This was the rift that would break their friendship, the easy routine she’d fallen into of waking up, meals together, and little moments.  A heart is a heavy burden to bear, she remembered reading once, and she felt herself sinking under the weight of her own, threatening to bring her to her knees.  Let it drag her down, let it take her to Hell, she didn’t care, just let it stop hurting...

“It’s okay,” she managed, though her voice shook as she lowered her gaze to her hands, watching her fingers try awkwardly to keep from shaking.  “It was a long shot...  I-I thought I was... going to d-”

“Just... stop talking for a second,” Wordsmith said, her voice soft as she stared at the angel.  Cass quietly stammered to a stop when she realized Wordsmith was standing directly in front of her now, trying to keep her lip from trembling as she met her gaze.   _Take the end of your only remaining friendship with a little dignity, Inquisitor..._   But all she wanted to do was cry and beg Wordsmith not to turn her away, that they could just pretend it hadn’t happened...  _Why did I even think that letter was a good idea?_

She flinched when hands cautiously cupped her face, letting Wordsmith brush the tears away as she sniffed quietly. The small touch was just enough, calming her a little as she took a deep breath, swallowing before she met her friend's gaze as confidently as she could manage. Another apology was on the tip of her tongue, but the look on her face silenced her words before she could even form them. There was something in those eyes, a sort of warmth that sent shivers dancing down her spine as she let herself get lost in her gaze. She had wanted for so long to be looked at like that, like she was the only thing that mattered, like she was _important_ , and she was finally getting her wish—at the end.

There was some cruel irony in that, she could tell—all she ever wanted, and she was on the verge of dying. She felt herself smiling, and calm washed over her. She honestly didn't care at that point if restoring her grace would leave her dead and her name forever tarnished, if not wiped from the record completely.

She'd been given some time to live—to really live and laugh and learn and just _be_. Nothing could take that from her now...

The Inquisitor started to speak, to thank her for everything, when she found Wordsmith leaning into her, warm lips brushing over hers for a scant second, and her heart leapt in her chest. The world was still and silent, and she was terrified to move, lest everything fall apart. Her heart was hammering a rhythm against her ribs as she strained to remain still.

_Please,_ she wanted to beg,  _kiss me again..._ But she couldn't find her voice, eyes distant as she prayed for just this last thing...

  
  


* * *

  
  


Her better judgment told her to end it, to turn tail and run. But standing there, holding the angel's face in her hands, looking at her and really seeing her for the first time, she couldn't bring herself to do that. It would have been easier in the end, especially if things went south... but the trust in those blue eyes, the acceptance, and after everything else, she still smiled, even though it looked like her heart was breaking...

Wordsmith couldn't take it any longer, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to her lips. Her lips were so warm and soft, her imagination had not done her justice... She tried, honestly _tried,_ for a minute to pull away, to satisfy herself with just that, but the way the Inquisitor's lips parted, letting out the tiniest sound, looking at her with that starry-eyed gaze...

Mother of sin, she didn't care anymore. Pulling her close, she pressed into the kiss again, letting her eyes drift closed on a groan. She kissed the angel the way she'd been thinking of for so long now, her thoughts fading away as she just concentrated on the feel. Arms hesitantly wrapped around her as she moved closer, one hand slipping into those red-brown curls. Deepening the kiss, she slid her fingers through those long locks, humming against her lips as she sought to kiss the heaven out of the angel.

When at last she pulled back from the kiss, she found herself transfixed by the sight of the Inquisitor's eyes half-open, lips flushed a soft pink as she drew in soft, short gasps. It was only a few moments, but it was the most precious sight...

The sound of the door opening reached her ears and she had a fleeting thought of wanting to kill whomever decided to interrupt them before she looked back to Cass, noticing the way her eyes were clearing, a deep blush creeping across her face as she swallowed heavily. Still, she didn't pull away, simply remaining where she was as she tightened her hands in Wordsmith's jacket. Red eyes watched as she shyly pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and she suddenly didn't care about Heaven or Hell or angels or demons, she just wanted to stay right here...

_No_ , she told herself, closing her eyes as she steeled herself again.  _We need to do this now..._

“Cass,” she said softly, her voice shaking a little as she rested her forehead against the angel's, staring deep into those blue eyes. “I know it's hard... But I need you to go with them and be safe... I mean it... I... I need to know you're safe, from Galahad, from Crowley...” _From me_ , she almost added, drawing in a fortifying breath. “They can help you, can protect you, until you can come home...” Blue eyes lit up at that, Wordsmith smiling a little as she kissed her forehead, caressing her hair. “I need you to do this for me... I promise it won't be for long... But you will be safe with them, and I'll feel better knowing that...”

She was silent for several moments, eyes drifting closed as her lip quivered. She wanted to cry, wanted to pitch a fit and fight for the chance to go home... But as she took a deep breath, she knew she was just asking for something Wordsmith couldn't give her... Nodding slowly, she murmured, “Okay... I'll go...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smooching! It took me a while to get here... <3


End file.
